Guilt
by insignificantramblings
Summary: "Coward" was never a word he would have used to describe himself. He had never meant to leave the boy to die alone. He had never meant to lie about it. He had never meant to fall for her. Coward or not, he knew the guilt would haunt him for the rest of his life. Éponine/Enjolras, Modern AU.
1. Introduction

**Hello everyone! If you're not here on accident, you might be here because you just finished my last modern AU story, "The Law of Love". I'm super sad that's over BUT I've had this idea bubbling around for a little over a month, and I'm so excited to finally get it up! Me and Jess (SleepingwithinWater) came up with the idea, bouncing plots off of each other one day when I was SUPPOSED to be working (oops). This was the result, after loooong talks and even longer emails/iphone notes. Hope you all enjoy! **

**Guilt: Prologue **

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In his privileged life, he had never heard gunshots.

This realization became clear to him as he exited the grocery store, arms laden with bags of food. For a moment, the Paris street was quiet, peaceful. All at once, three quick pops echoed through the air, and chaos erupted. Citizens and tourists alike fled the scene, unwitting screams ripping from their mouths as they desperately tried to escape the present danger.

Enjolras, however, had never been one to run from anything. He dropped his groceries unceremoniously to the ground, and ran into the street. He whipped around, searching for whoever had been shot. The possibility of danger did not fully register; the young lawyer was too focused on aid.

As his eyes scanned the panicked scene, his hand dug into his pocket, searching for his cell phone. He had never really understood the point of mobile devices (it had been Combeferre, fed up with always trying to find Enjolras, that had bought it for him). In this moment of life and death chaos, however, Enjolras was glad for the device.

When the phone was finally extracted from his pocket, Enjolras looked down to unlock the keyboard and dial the police. When his gaze lifted, his stomach dropped.

Gavroche.

Enjolras felt his throat close at the sight of the fourteen year old crumbled in the street. His legs were splayed at odd angles, his hands gripping his chest. Despite his efforts to staunch it, blood flowed across his fingers from the gunshot wound.

Enjolras nearly dropped his phone in shock. The voice of the dispatcher, however, prompted him to focus. He cleared his throat, his legs still carrying him to Gavroche's side.

"Yes, I'd like to report a shooting. We need an ambulance."

"What is your location?"

"The corner of Rue Medici and Rue Fontana." Enjolras said, glancing up to confirm the location.

"Have you been injured?"

Enjolras shook his head distractedly, pushing past the couple of tourists that had stopped. It seemed like it was taking an eternity to reach Gavroche's side.

"No, I was at the grocery store across the street when I heard the gun shots. He's…he's a fourteen year old kid."

"We have an ambulance en route to your location, sir. Do you know the victim?"

Enjolras swallowed the lump in his throat as he finally reached Gavroche's side. He had known the boy for almost five years, since he and his sister had joined their ragtag family.

Éponine…as much as she had been enveloped into their group, her primary concern had always been Gavroche. She had fought tooth and nail for custody of him when she turned eighteen, driving herself into deep debt to provide a stable home for her little brother. Gavroche had been only nine at the time.

Éponine worked three jobs and went to night classes for years, making sure there was always food on the table for Gavroche. She forced him to go to school daily, pointing out that his hero, Courfeyrac, would not be "as cool as he was" had he dropped out of school. Gavroche had obtained perfect attendance ever since.

Enjolras had helped Gavroche with his social studies homework many times over the past few years. He was always hanging out in the Musain, waiting for Éponine to get off of work. As the shadows of his previous life faded, Gavroche proved to be a bright and inquisitive learner who, at times, reminded Enjolras of himself.

And now, in an instant, he had been gunned down in broad daylight.

"Yes, I know him." Enjolras said, laying his hand on Gavroche's fingers, applying pressure to slow the bleeding. He scanned Gavroche's body, noting two other shallow wounds. Neither was bleeding as profusely as the gaping hole in his chest.

"Enj?"

This time, Enjolras did drop his phone. It clattered to the road, the battery falling out the back, effectively ending the phone call.

"Gavroche?" He asked frantically, pushing on the wound with urgency while leaning closer to Gavroche's face.

"Am I…die?" Gavroche questioned, his voice reduced to a whisper, his words jumbled. Enjolras cleared his throat and blinked rapidly to dispel the threatening tears.

"Nah, Gavroche, you'll be fine. I called an ambulance. Not that you even need it, you'll…you're fine."

"You sure?" Gavroche asked, his eyelids fluttering. Enjolras nodded vigorously, squeezing Gavroche's arm with his free hand.

"Of course I'm sure. Can you keep your eyes open for me?" Enjolras asked, his voice verging on hysteria. He looked up at the street. A couple pedestrians were watching from afar, but there was no sign of the ambulance.

"So tired." Gavroche mumbled, coughing slightly. Enjolras shook his arm again in desperation.

"Gav, tell me a story, or something. Anything."

"Whaddaya wanna hear?" Gavroche's words were slurred, though his eyes were open.

"I don't…something happy. Something…the best day ever." Enjolras said, his voice thin and desperate. If Gavroche was about to…no, he couldn't even think it. But if it happened…at least he might be content.

"Thas easy Enj, the day Courf brought me to the café."

Enjolras wouldn't have been able to hold back the tears if he tried. They flowed down his cheeks unchecked, splashing onto his clothes, onto Gavroche, and onto the pavement.

"Gavroche," Enjolras was struck with a sudden thought. "Who did this?"

"Huh?" Gavroche's consciousness was slipping, his eyes becoming unfocused and hazy.

"Gav, stay with me. Who did this? Who shot – "

Enjolras's question was left unfinished as he was unceremoniously ripped away from Gavroche. The boy weakly raised a hand toward Enjolras, who fought against the strong arms dragging him away. Gavroche disappeared from view as Enjolras was pulled down a side alley, out of sight.

Two minutes later, the smoke seemed to clear; the colors separating, the world coming back into focus. Two minutes was it all it took. Two minutes that he would scarcely remember later on. Two minutes that would complete change his life.

He had spoken to someone, the same someone that had pulled him away from the dying Gavroche. After, Enjolras had taken a deep breath and pushed himself off the brick wall with shaking arms. He did not look back. He focused on the end of the alley, and on putting one foot in front of the other.

'_Coward,' _he thought. It was never a word he would have used to describe himself. But now, it was all he could think of.

He tried to right the wrong in his own mind.

_You had to. You had to leave. Greater good. You had a moral crisis, and you had to make a tough call. _

As he rounded the corner, Enjolras felt the cold weight of his decision settle on his shoulders. He had left a boy to die, alone. Not just any boy either, one of his friends. How could he tell them? How could he tell _her? _ He couldn't, that much was clear. Not only had he walked away, it had been for…no, he couldn't even think of it.

Coward or not, he knew that the guilt would haunt him for the rest of his life.

* * *

**And there is the prologue! As you can probably tell, it's going to be a drama/mystery story, with a LOT of planned twists and turns throughout! Really excited for this! As always, let me know what you think, and I'd love to hear everyone's initial ideas for what happened in those TWO MINUTES that so drastically changed EVERYTHING for our favorite revolutionary. Thank you guys, as always, and I will see you soon! xoxo Brittany **


	2. Chapter 1: The Phone Calls

**Hi Everyone! Thank you for the follows/reviews; I appreciate them all!**

**Bit of a background, but it must be done. Some foreshadowing in the beginning, background in the middle and some drama at the end. There will be minimal background after this one! **

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Chapter One: Phone Calls

"After the French Revolution, what was the general expectation?"

"No more fighting?"

"Food!"

"No kings."

"Peace!"

"Okay, okay, one at a time." Éponine Jondrette laughed, raising her hands to quiet her classroom. It was only the third day of their unit on Post Revolution French History, and the fifth graders were eager to learn. "Evan, you said there should be no more fighting, why do you think so?"

"Well…" Evan trailed off uncertainty, clearly hesitant about being put on the spot. "I just think that after all the fighting, once they got rid of the cause, there should be no more war?" He phrased it as a question.

"In a perfect world, Evan, that would be exactly what would happen. You say the 'cause' of the fighting was removed, are you speaking of the heads of the monarchs?" Evan said nothing, just nodded. "What we need to do is get down to the root cause of the unrest in France, specifically Paris, in the late 1700s."

The fifth graders shifted in their seats; wasn't Marie Antoinette _really _the cause of the Revolution?

"Jessica," Éponine said, pointing a girl in the third row. "What do you do when you get home from school?"

Jessica looked uneasy; was this a trick question? "Um…my mom makes me a snack."

"And then?"

"I watch television for an hour and do some homework. When daddy comes home from work we eat dinner."

"Where do you sleep at night?"

"In a bed…" Jessica said slowly, her brows furrowed.

"Exactly. The rest of you as well, I'm sure, have dinners at night and sleep in beds, am I right?" Twenty two heads nodded in unison. Éponine smiled to herself, coming to stand in front of her desk.

"Unfortunately, this was not the case for most Parisians in the years before the French Revolution. People, to put it mildly, were starving. We've covered the plagues – " Éponine paused, smirking at the look of utter disgust on several student's faces. "- and how they affected the growth and population of Europe. Poverty, however, was the real disease in those times; it killed people more than any plague ever could."

The students were silent, undoubtedly thinking of what it would be like to be _that_ poor. Éponine taught in a wealthy section of Paris at a private school; most of these children had more money in their trust funds than Éponine had to her name after years of work.

"So people were mad because they were poor?" A boy named Henry asked timidly. Éponine nodded.

"If you were poor in today's society, you would be able to seek aid through our government in the form of soup kitchens, or cheaper housing. If something happened to your parents and you had no other family, the government would not allow you to wander the streets, you would be put into foster care."

Éponine said this with gritted teeth; it was the hardest thing to teach her students. Foster care in many situations was ideal, but not for herself and her siblings, who were placed into the system after their parent's incarceration. Gavroche was only six, and Azelma was ten. Éponine was fifteen at the time, and was put into a different foster home than her two siblings. Azelma was sent to the suburbs of Paris, for which Éponine was eternally grateful; getting away from "home" was the best thing for her. Gavroche and Éponine, however, were both still in the city.

Éponine would meet up with Gavroche weekly, desperately trying to prove that he was being mistreated at his home; every time she saw him, the child was covered in bruises. The social workers, however, had little regard for a fifteen year old girl that had already spent a year in a juvenile detention center for stealing.

For years, Éponine balanced high school with multiple jobs, trying to get together enough money to win custody of Gavroche. When she turned seventeen and told her foster parents she wasn't going to college yet, they kicked her out, leaving her to fend for herself on the streets. She barely finished high school, scraping by just enough to graduate. That summer, she met Marius Pontmercy, a naïve and earnest college sophomore. He let her crash on his suite couch several nights a week when school started.

Through the influence of Marius and his friends, Éponine was able to apply for a scholarship to college, to study education. Her interview was what got her the full ride; she cited her life experiences, and her desire to provide a better life for her young brother as her motivations for going to school.

Between school, three jobs, and a nasty custody battle, Éponine was able, at the age of eighteen, to buy a small apartment with two bedrooms: one for herself, and one for the nine year old Gavroche. At the end, she was broke, exhausted, but extremely proud. For the past five years, Éponine and her brother had been living together; he was fourteen, and went to high school every day, while she had been teaching fifth grade for the almost two years since her college graduation.

"Was it the king that made them poor?" Lucas, another student asked, pulling Éponine out of her reverie.

"Partially," she said slowly. "The French sent many troops and supplies to America to help with their Revolution, which was an unpopular choice at the time. This meant less money for the French, and therefore, more poverty."

The students were quiet, until Evan raised his hand again. "But…why did they start fighting?"

Éponine smiled at the innocence of the children, who couldn't understand the political events from over 200 years prior. "They didn't have many other ways to express themselves."

"It's like the other day when I punched Lucas and got in trouble, but then later we talked about it and we solved the problem, right Ms. Jondrette?" The class troublemaker, Pierre, said cheerfully. Éponine pushed down her laughter; Pierre reminded her of Gavroche.

"Kind of like that, Pierre, yes. You were caught in the moment and punched Lucas, but then you solved more when you talked about it. People in the past didn't know _how_ to talk about things of this magnitude, and had to resort to fighting. There was no television, or even many newspapers to spread news and opinions, and most people resorted to violence."

"Such a big place, no one would have tattled on me, Marie." Pierre said, sticking his tongue out at the girl next to him.

"I couldn't just let you do it – " Marie started, before looking at Éponine, who was giving them both a sharp look.

"No fighting you two, remember what we all said the other day. If you see something, say something. Even if it's going to upset someone, it's better than feeling guilty later."

"Yes, Ms. Jondrette." Pierre and Marie both mumbled, looking down at their desks. Éponine opened her mouth to speak again, before the bell ringing cut her off.

"Walk – don't run!" She said loudly, trying to be heard over the scrapes of the chairs against the floor. It was lunch hour.

Once the classroom was clear, Éponine took a deep breath, walking around the back of her desk and taking a seat. Talking about French history could always get touchy – especially with subjects like poverty. She loved her students; they were wonderful kids. They all, however, came from such rich families, that trying to explain poverty and hardship to them was like trying to get Grantaire to stop drinking.

Éponine sat, stretching her arms over her head. She rolled her neck, reaching into her desk to retrieve her cell phone. She had four text messages.

"_drinking tonight? I found a new wine I want to try." _ The first was from Grantaire, who often forgot that most of his friends had real jobs, and didn't work as artists that created their own hours. Éponine rolled her eyes, typing back a quick reply (_"I have a job"_) before moving to the next message.

"_School sucks"_ This one was from Gavroche. Éponine rolled her eyes again, flipping the phone to the side to answer. _"Too bad" _She typed back, smirking to herself. She didn't care if Gavroche _hated_ school, he was going to go every single day.

"_What should I get for Cosette for her birthday?" _That was from Marius, of course. Éponine rolled her eyes for a third time, taking a deep breath before moving to the next message.

It wasn't that she still had feelings for Marius. She didn't hate him, nor did she love him; they were friends only. She had practically worshiped him when they first met, but as she started to get out on her own she realized that she had such strong feelings for him because he was one of the first people to ever be kind to her. After that realization, being just friends with him was easy.

Once Marius met Cosette, however, he was unbearable. Éponine couldn't have a conversation with him without hearing all about how wonderful his girlfriend was. At the time, Éponine also hated Cosette, but after she met her, she couldn't help but love her. Cosette practically exhaled sunshine, and it was good to meet such an honestly _nice_ person.

Éponine and Cosette were close friends, but what Éponine could not _stand_ about Marius was how he couldn't do _anything_ on his own. Need to take Cosette on a date? Better ask Courfeyrac where to go. Need a present? Better ask Éponine what to get. Need to know what wine would be the best? Better ask Grantaire.

It was annoying.

Éponine decided to text him back later, and peered at her phone to read her last text. _"Can't make it to the café tonight, don't feel well."_ It was a group message from Enjolras. Éponine's eyebrows raised to the sky; he couldn't make it to the café? Enjolras _lived_ for the café. Though there was really no ABC Society anymore (once all the men had jobs, the society had sort of disbanded) they still got together at the Musain every night to share coffee, drinks and stories. They were a tight knit group, and sometimes still organized the occasional (peaceful) rally at their old college.

"_You okay?" _She asked, responding to just Enjolras instead of the group. Enjolras would not miss the café even if he was sick with pneumonia.

"_Fine, just feeling pretty under the weather. Lots of work." _ His reply came seconds later. Éponine shrugged to herself, replying once more.

"_Feel better, see you tomorrow." _

When Éponine had met the group of boys in college, she had picked up on several things about them. What stood out most prevalently was that Enjolras was the leader, and that everyone looked up to him. Once she got to know him better, she understood why. Not only was he extremely intelligent, he was also hard working and a genuinely caring person. He hid behind a façade of caring only for the issues that the ABC Society stood for, but Éponine saw right through him: she knew that he would kill, or die for any one of his friends.

In truth, Enjolras was one of the best people to have around Gavroche. She hoped that his intelligence, his passion and his work ethic would rub off on her brother. She knew Gavroche idolized Courfeyrac, mostly because of his moves with the ladies. Courf was smart and hard working as well, but he didn't exude power and intelligence like Enjolras did. Éponine hoped that all the best qualities of her friends would influence Gavroche throughout his life; they were the best people she knew.

Éponine's phone dinged, and she looked down to see a text from Grantaire. _"I have a job too, just because I don't get a teacher's lounge, doesn't mean I don't do work."_

"_You drinking right now?" _

"…_maybe." _

Éponine laughed, her shoulders shaking. _"I'll see you later, fool." _

"_I look forward to the moment." _

While she hoped Gavroche would pick up Enjolras's habits of studying, Éponine also hoped he would be able to be as carefree and fun as Grantaire. With a little less alcohol, ideally.

A glance at the clock told Éponine she had only fifteen minutes left of her lunch break before she was on recess duty. She hastily pulled out her brown bag and unwrapped her sandwich, munching on the tuna she had packed for herself that morning.

Once finished, she stood, taking her phone with her as she made her way past the desks to the door. She used the bathroom quickly, before exiting the school through the cafeteria. The sun was shining, and the children were all playing loudly in the yard.

"Hello, Éponine." Her fellow fifth grade teacher, Mr. Jones said blandly. Éponine wrinkled her nose in distaste; she really did not like Mr. Jones.

"Tom." She said curtly.

"I was wondering when you'd get out here, I'm not on duty today."

Éponine glanced at her watch; she was precisely thirty seconds late. "Sorry, Tom, I'll be out here early tomorrow."

"No matter," he said, waving a hand, before walking back toward the building. Éponine rolled her eyes, before turning her attention back to her students.

So far, so good; no fights had broken out yet. Until…

"Pierre!" Éponine shouted, marching onto the field. Movement halted at once. "Let go of Marie, _now_." Pierre did as he was told and dropped his hold of Marie's hair. "Inside, now." Éponine said lowly, pointing toward the building. "Go to the office, and stay there until recess is over."

Pierre started to protest, but a severe look from Éponine halted his words. He turned around and glumly walked away.

"Are you alright?" Éponine asked kindly, and Marie nodded, wiping at a tear on her face.

"I'm fine." She said quietly. "Can I sit with you for the rest of recess?"

Éponine nodded her consent, and the pair walked back to a bench. Éponine still had full view of the playground for duty purposes, and Marie started chattering on about the vacation her family would be taking to the South of France.

Éponine felt her phone buzz in her pocket about two minutes into Marie's story. She ignored it, focusing her attention on the girl and the rest of the students. It continuously buzzed for the next fifteen minutes, until the bell sounded through the playground and all the students groaned, all hesitant to go back inside.

On the walk to the door, Éponine's phone continued to vibrate, and she sent Marie in ahead of her. Éponine trailed behind her students, making sure no other teachers were around before pulling out her phone.

She had sixteen missed calls and four voicemails, all from Joly and Combeferre.

She didn't know why, but her stomach dropped, fear flooding her body. Joly and Combeferre both worked at the local hospital, so for them both to be calling…

"Don't overreact." Éponine mumbled to herself, pushing her panic down. She looked around again, holding the phone up to her ear to call her voicemail.

"Hey Ep, it's Joly. Give me a call when you get a chance."

"Ep, it's Combeferre, call me or Joly."

"Éponine, fuck, answer the phone."

"Éponine, it's Gav, you need to get down here."

When Éponine reached her classroom door, the principal was standing there, a sad look on her face. She was holding a note, but Éponine already knew.

She was running for her car before anyone could say a word.

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**WOAH background chapter AND depression? I felt horrible writing about who Gav should aspire to be like, because we all know what happened in the prologue. Let me know what you guys think! xoxo Brittany **


	3. Chapter 2: The Hospital

**Hi guys! Thank you again for all the follows/reviews/favorites! I appreciate every single one! Just to clarify something I got in a review – the intro was supposed to be VERY confusing and you're not supposed to know what the hell is happening. You can all GUESS who shot Gav/pulled Enjolras away, but it won't be revealed for awhile (only me and Jess know…muahaha)**

**Much like the last chapter was the same time period as the intro but from Éponine's point of view, this chapter is the same time period AGAIN, but from Combeferre and Joly's point of view. **

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Chapter Two: The Hospital

"Ms. Jensen is asking for you again."

"Seven hells." Combeferre swore, running a hand through his hair. It was nearing the end of his shift; he had been at the hospital for nearly 12 hours.

Joly grinned. "She's in love."

"You go talk to her."

"She's not talking to anyone, except to ask for that 'handsome young doctor'."

Combeferre ground his teeth together, rolling his eyes skyward. Ms. Jensen, an older woman of 72, had come in two days before with a severe case of digestion issues…that is to say, she had been using the bathroom so frequently that she had completely dehydrated herself. The bug was almost out of her system, and she was continuously hydrated through an IV line. For some reason, she had taken a liking to Combeferre, and requested his presence nearly ever hour.

"I hate you, just so you know." Combeferre said to Joly, hitting his shoulder on his way past. Joly just laughed, raising a hand in farewell.

"You know, once she's over the shits…" Joly suggested humorously. Combeferre turned around and raised his middle finger silently. Without another word he turned on his heel, storming down the hallway.

"You shouldn't tease him so much." A female voice called, and Joly whipped around to see Musichetta, one of the registered nurses on the hospital staff.

"Chetta." Joly breathed, trying to keep the smile off of his face.

"I need some syringes, care to join me?"

* * *

"This…is…wrong…" Joly ground out, a word punctuating each of his thrusts into the nurse's body. She laughed, bracing her hands against Joly's shoulders, her back arching against the shelves. Several boxes wiggled off the shelf and crashed to the ground.

"Why is it…wrong – _oh." _Musichetta asked, her tone changing as the doctor hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"You know why, _fuck_." The last word came out as a growl as Joly's pace intensified, his movements becoming erratic. The pair tried to keep their voices down; they were, after all, in the supply closet at the hospital where they _worked_.

"He doesn't need…to know…"

Joly said nothing, just continued his movements until he finished, his mouth against Musichetta's shoulder, his teeth biting into her flesh as he tried to stay quiet through his orgasm. He ducked his head, his arms still braced on either side of her body. His muscles were shaking, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the shelves. The only sound in the closet was their haggard breathing.

"I know." Joly said quietly, his heart still hammering. "It's wrong, he's my friend."

"What Lesgle doesn't know, won't hurt us."

"I just…" Joly moved his hands to Musichetta's hips, pushing her upwards slightly to pull himself free. "He always jokes about how bad his luck is, and what are we doing? Sneaking around behind his back."

"He's not going to share me with you."

"I wouldn't expect him to." Joly said, reaching down to pull up his pants, which were pooled around his feet.

"If you don't want to do this anymore, because you feel guilty…" Musichetta began, reaching down to tug up her own pants.

"Of course I feel guilty!" Joly exclaimed, his eyes searching hers. How could she _not_?

"If you want to end this, that's fine. I can be with just Lesgle. I would miss you…" she trailed off, her voice faraway. "But I'd get over it. We've all got secrets, and they can go on as long as we don't tell anyone."

"I think we should end this." Joly said sadly. Musichetta blinked, her face registering her surprise.

"We've been at this for two years, and now you think it's time to end it?"

"You're not going to break up with Lesgle to be with me, and I'm not going to keep screwing you in closets to keep this alive…I just…he's my friend, and you're his girlfriend, and this has been going on for too long, and it never should have happened at all. I'm sorry."

"Well, if that's how you feel." Musichetta said flatly, pushing past Joly to reach the door. "I'll see you later."

She left without another word, leaving him in the closet to think. He kicked one of the stray boxes on the floor moodily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He loved her, he knew he did. There had never been anyone else in his life that he had cared for as much as her. But stolen moments in supply closets during work hours? And then he had to go to the café and see Lesgle all over her…

Not that he had any ill will toward his friend at all; Lesgle had her first. He had found her, he had dated her, and he was in love with her. It was not Lesgle's fault that Joly and Musichetta had drank too much one night and kissed at the café. It was not Lesgle's fault that the sexual tension had been too much, and that they had had sex in an empty hospital room right after Joly established residency at the hospital. And it was _certainly_ not Lesgle's fault that it had continued for two years.

It was Joly's fault, mostly. And Musichetta's. But mostly Joly's…at least that's how he felt. Guilty.

* * *

"…young man just like you, you know. Looked like you, too. He wasn't a doctor, though. He was a soldier." Ms. Jensen was prattling on, and Combeferre was ashamed to say that he was only half listening.

He _knew_ that part of his job was to be compassionate; that half of healing came from talking to, and encouraging patients. He was, however, _exhausted. _ He had taken the night shift that day, and had begun work at 1 am. This was after getting off of his previous shift only six hours before; he had only slept for three (fitful) hours between the two twelve hour shifts.

He checked his watch discreetly, noting that he only had twenty minutes left before he could go home. He would have to tell Ms. Jensen that all further needs could be directed to Joly. Bastard.

"Am I able to go home soon?" Ms. Jensen asked, and Combeferre snapped back to reality, his eyes falling down to the chart in his hand.

"It looks like later today, yes."

"Pity." Ms. Jensen mused, a sad smile coming over her face. "I've seen more people in the last few days than I have in the last year."

Combeferre's heart clenched painfully. He suddenly felt very, very bad for trying to put off talking to the old woman.

"What of your family?"

"The young man from the war…he didn't come home." Ms. Jensen said softly, fingering a locket around her neck. "I couldn't bring myself to love anyone else. That's why…and I hope you're not uncomfortable about this, dear, but you look so much like him. It's a real comfort to an old lady."

"I'll tell my partner not to let them send you home until I'm back here for my shift later tonight." Combeferre decided, reaching to pat Ms. Jensen's hand. "I'll send you on your way."

Ms. Jensen's face broke into a smile, her fingers curling around Combeferre's hand. "Thank you," she said gratefully. Combeferre opened his mouth to reply, but an urgent beeping sound from his belt cut him off.

He sent an apologetic look to Ms. Jensen, fumbling to pull his beeper off of his belt loop. It was from the emergency room, indicating that several surgeons were needed. Combeferre sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Well, Ms. Jensen, looks like I won't be leaving here anytime soon."

* * *

"You get the same message?" Joly asked, meeting Combeferre in the hallway. The pair quickly walked through the double doors that separated the main hospital from the emergency room.

"Yeah, I was in with Ms. Jensen…we actually had a good talk."

"Good, I'm glad, she seemed like a nice lady…even if she's a little odd."

"Be nice," Combeferre chastised.

"Isn't your shift over?"

"In about ten minutes. They might not need me."

The pair pushed through the doors into the ER, walking through the waiting area to the unloading bay for the ambulance. There were already several nurses there, but Joly and Combeferre were the only doctors.

"How many victims?" Combeferre asked the closest nurse, who blushed before answering.

"Only one, fourteen year old, male. Gunshot."

"How many wounds?"

"One major, two minor."

Combeferre nodded his understanding, before turning back to Joly, who was grinning. He raised a questioning eyebrow. "The ladies love you." Joly whispered, jerking his head toward the nurse. Combeferre's face reddened, his hand coming up to smack Joly on the back of the head.

"Not the time."

The door opened, and the two doctors joined the nurses at the stretcher. Simultaneously, they felt their hearts drop.

"Is that…"

"Shit." Combeferre swore, pushing past a few nurses to reach Gavroche's side. "Someone talk to me!" He said loudly, focusing his attention on one of the EMTs that had wheeled the stretcher into the hospital.

"He was shot…"

"Yes, I can see that." Combeferre snapped, his expression severe. "When was he last awake? What's his pulse at? How much blood has he lost since it happened?"

"Doctor Combeferre…" One of the nurses began, but her mouth closed when the doctor turned his angry look on her.

"He was conscious in the vehicle, he's lost a lot of blood, will definitely need a transfusion immediately. His pulse is low…around 40 beats a minute."

"Fuck, Joly…" Combeferre said. The anger was gone, and in its place was a child-like confusion and innocence. He gestured to the stretcher helplessly.

Joly was frozen, his hands shaking. As he opened his mouth to reply, the ER door opened behind them. Their boss, Doctor Shepard, came upon the scene.

"Joly, Combeferre, what's the matter with you two?" He barked, looking from the two doctors to the young victim. Nurses were trying to staunch the bleeding. One was pushing oxygen into the boy's nose, and another was attaching a universal bag of blood to an IV to replace what had been lost.

"Sir, we…we know him. We can't…"

"Get out of here, both of you, and let the rest of us do our jobs."

Doctor Shepard and the nurses wheeled the stretcher through the doors, and out of sight. With his superior out of sight, Combeferre sank to the ground, his shock overtaking him at last.

"Fuck, _fuck." _Joly repeated over and over; his mind could not come up with anything else.

"There was so much blood."

"_Fuck." _

"What do we...Éponine, Joly, we have to call her!"

Joly dug his phone out of his pocked, his lips still mouthing 'fuck' over and over. Combeferre pulled out his phone as well. The two took turns calling her, again and again.

"Should we leave a message?" Joly asked nervously, knowing that it would be better to just speak to her.

"I think we have to."

"Hey Ep, it's Joly. Give me a call when you get a chance."

"Ep, it's Combeferre, call me or Joly."

"Éponine, fuck, answer the phone."

"Éponine, it's Gav, you need to get down here."

"What do we do?" Joly moaned, staring hard at his phone, as though willing Éponine to call back.

"I'm going to call the school…maybe they can go to her classroom and tell her she needs to come here." Combeferre said, scrolling through his phone to find his note of emergency contacts. He scrolled past other important numbers (one of which was Gavroche's school, the sight of which caused tears to leap to Combeferre's eyes) before finally reaching Éponine's school. He clicked the number, holding the phone to his ear as it rang.

"Yes, hi, I'm looking for Éponine Jondrette. This is Dr. Combeferre, down at St. Pierre Hospital. Her brother has been injured, and we need her down here as soon as possible." Combeferre finished the call, before hanging up and stuffing his phone back in his pocket with shaking hands.

"What do we do now?" He asked. Joly looked up from the floor, his eyes sad.

"We wait."

* * *

**Okay guys, so there's chapter 2! Now we've added some more secrets to the mix! Let me know what you guys think! xoxo Brittany **


	4. Chapter 3: The Disappearance

**Hey guys! Thank you for all the responses and love on this story so far…I really appreciate it! I have a pretty set direction that this is going to go in (which I've been told so far is mysterious, suspenseful and haunting) if anyone has any ideas/anything they'd like to see, let me know! I'm definitely open to any ideas. **

**If anyone is looking to check out a 1920s e/e AU, the lovely Jess (SleepingwithinWater) has just posted the first chapter of what is going to be an awesome fic! Check that shit out on her page! **

**Without further ado, chapter 3! **

* * *

Éponine's car screeched into the hospital parking lot far above the speed limit, her back end almost lifting off the pavement as she turned the corner. She sped into a parking spot, throwing the gear into park, before pulling the key out of the ignition and hastily exiting the car. She ran to the door, her heels clicking rhythmically on the asphalt. She pushed through the emergency room doors, her head turning wildly to locate her friends.

"Éponine!" The girl turned quickly to the left to see Combeferre, who was standing with Joly. He was twisting his fingers nervously, his face drawn and tired.

"Combeferre, Joly. What's happening, where is he, what's – " Éponine began to ramble, her words jumbled. Joly held up a hand, gently placing his other fingers on Éponine's wrist.

"We won't know anything for awhile, he's just gone in for surgery with our boss."

"What happened, I don't – "

"He was shot, 'Ponine, that's all we know so far."

"Why wasn't he in school?" Éponine demanded, her eyebrows furrowed. She reached into her bag, digging around before pulling out her cell phone.

"Who are you – "

"Gav's school. I want to know who signed him out."

"Don't…Éponine, let's wait until he's awake to talk to him and see what's going on. We should focus on his health right now."

Éponine stopped dialing her phone, and closed her eyes. After several seconds, her shoulders started shaking, her eyes squeezed shut. Despite her efforts, a few tears leaked out and splashed into her lap. Combeferre's eyes widened in alarm; he knew that she would be upset, of course, but he had _never_ seen her cry. Not once. Not _ever._

"Honey, it's okay." Joly said soothing, extracting an arm and placing it around Éponine's back. "It's going to be okay."

"What if it's not?" Éponine burst out, her eyes snapping open. "What if he dies, Joly, did you think of that? We fought so hard, he went through _so much _and things were finally looking up over the past few years for him and now? Now he's been _shot_ in the broad daylight by God knows who! He could…you don't know if it's going to be okay."

"Of course we don't." Combeferre said gently, putting a hand on Éponine's knee and squeezing lightly. "But what we do know is that there's a lot of great doctors here to look after him. We just have to stay positive."

Éponine said nothing, just leaned into Joly, her hand gripping Combeferre's. They sat in that position for several moments, before Joly's beeper went off. He sighed, pulling his arm from around Éponine and pulling the device out of his pocket.

"Dr. Shepard had another surgery scheduled for now. Since he's in with Gav…he needs me to go and take over."

"What is it?"

"Appendix removal."

"Do you need me?" Combeferre asked, trailing off uncertainly. Joly shrugged.

"You could help, we'd have it done pretty quickly."

"Are you…" Combeferre directed his question at Éponine, who waved him off.

"Go. I'll be fine." She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"We'll be back out soon, 'Ponine, don't worry." Joly promised, leaning over to hug her. She squeezed him back, bestowing another hug on Combeferre, before waving them goodbye.

* * *

"Dammit." Éponine swore, pulling the phone back down from her ear. She had been trying to call Courfeyrac for over ten minutes, and every call had gone straight to voice mail. Of everyone in the world, Éponine cared the most for Gavroche, and Courfeyrac was a close second. The two were inseparable most of the time, and Courf needed to be at the hospital.

With a sigh, Éponine dialed Marius, who still shared an apartment with Courfeyrac. He and Cosette shared the master bedroom area, while Courfeyrac had a separate section. It came in handy, as Courf brought home different women every week.

"Hello?"

"Marius." Éponine said in relief, a sigh escaping her lips. "Are you home, by any chance, or have you seen Courf lately?"

"No, I've been at the office all day, why?"

"Gav…there's been…an accident. Gavroche is in the hospital."

"Éponine, I'm sorry, what happened?" Marius's voice changed immediately from its usual sunny demeanor to a concerned tone.

"He was…shot."

"_What?!" _ Marius was incredulous.

"I know, it's a lot to take in. Listen…could you try to find Courfeyrac, and let Cosette know what's going on? I'll just be sitting in the waiting room all day, so I won't see you guys, but…"

"Éponine, are you kidding? Of course you'll see us, we'll be there soon!"

Without another word (and without waiting for protest) Marius hung up the phone. Éponine huffed, stowing her phone back in her purse. Of _course_ Marius would suggest they all rendezvous in the waiting room.

Thirty seconds after Marius hung up, Éponine began getting messages.

"_Who the fuck did this." _The first, from Bahorel. Éponine could practically hear the threatening tone of his voice, and see the flexing of his muscles. He would be ready to kick anyone's ass. And Éponine just might let him.

"_Closing the shop, will be there soon."_ The second, from Feuilly. He had a small shop near the café, where he sold various handcrafted gifts that he made himself.

"_On my way and I texted Chetta. She should be down in a few. Jehan is with me, we'll be there soon." _ The third came from Lesgle. Éponine felt a wave of relief wash through her at the thought of Musichetta joining her in the waiting room.

"_Calling a cab." _Grantaire, of course, who was too drunk to drive.

"_Can't find Courf, going to check down at the library." _ Marius, again. Courfeyrac was working on his masters, and would spend time after work studying in the library. Hopefully he would be there, and would come along with Marius.

"_Honey, I'll be there soon, do you need anything?" _Cosette, who always put others first. Éponine typed out a quick response, asking just for her friend to get there as soon as she could.

"_On my way." _ Enjolras. Éponine felt a stab of guilt; if Enjolras was too sick to go to the café, he was certainly too sick to join them at the hospital. Éponine pushed her keyboard out again, hastily typing a response.

"_I know you're sick…it's just going to be a waiting game, I don't want you to get worse just sitting here." _

"_I'm fine, I'll be there soon."_

There was literally _no_ arguing with Enjolras. Éponine sighed, rolling her eyes at his stubbornness. The truth was that Enjolras was one of Éponine's favorite people, for the simple fact that he always knew what he wanted and what he stood for. There were never any games with Enjolras; he was simple, and to the point. He was sometimes too smart, and too blunt for his own good. Once Éponine had gotten used to it, however, it rarely bothered her.

Except in situations like this, when she wished he would just _listen_ to her.

Éponine sighed, stowing her phone away again. She glanced up at the clock, noting that she hadn't even been at the hospital for a full hour yet. It was going to be a _long _day.

* * *

Several blocks away, Enjolras was in a panic.

Clearly, he was not sick. He had sent out that text about not going to the café because he couldn't face Éponine. And now, he had told her that he would go to the hospital. Logically, he wouldn't be the only person there, right? He didn't think he could bring himself to actually speak to her after what he had done.

What if Gavroche woke up, and told everyone that Enjolras had left him? Would he even remember? And how… how was Enjolras supposed to face… he couldn't even think about it. His life had gone from fairly simple to insanely complicated in less than a day.

"Fuck." Enjolras swore quietly, his hands shaking as he smoothed his hair back. He was supposed to be sick, right? So if he looked like hell (which he did), that was okay, right?

In truth, Enjolras had been sick; he had come back from the scene of the shooting and promptly puked his guts out. His head was still swimming, and his stomach was churning. Faking sick would not _actually_ be that hard.

How was he supposed to look Éponine in the eyes and pretend that he had not been there that morning? How was he going to be supportive of her when he knew what had happened? Obviously the police would be in touch with Éponine soon…and what was he to do? Lie? He had to…there were other things, more important things at stake.

Enjolras _hated_ lying to anyone: his friends, his family, his coworkers, _anyone. _ In his job as a lawyer, sometimes stretching the truth was necessary, but at its essence, his job was about finding the truth.

The only thing he could do, the only thing to ease his conscience, would be to support Éponine through all this mess. It would make him feel _slightly_ less guilty. Even though he had to lie to her face.

_Well. Better get used to lying. _He told himself, biting his lip nervously. His heart was still hammering. _I'm going to be doing a lot of it. _

* * *

"That was easy." Joly commented, pulling his glove off and throwing it in the trash. Combeferre nodded in agreement, stretching his hands over his head. He was still running on very little sleep, and the exhaustion was catching up with him.

"Is the espresso machine on the fifth floor fixed yet?" Combeferre yawned. Joly shook his head.

"No…why don't you head home for a few hours? You have a shift starting at what? Six?"

"Unfortunately."

"So you'll be back here anyway, and you can drop in and see everyone in the lobby. I'm sure we're not going to know anything about Gavroche for awhile."

Combeferre considered the idea. He really did need to sleep…

"I'll go when everyone else gets here…if I have to, I'll just nap in the break room." It was a regular occurrence to see the emergency room and intensive care unit doctors sleeping on couches in the break room between their shifts.

"What do you think happened?" Joly asked quietly, his tone nervous. Combeferre looked over questioningly.

"To Gav?" Joly nodded. "I don't know." Combeferre said honestly. "It could have been a random hit, it could have been on purpose…I think Éponine is right to want to call the school and see who signed him out after the surgery. Unless he just left…"

"He wouldn't." Joly said firmly. "You know Gav. Ever since Éponine started caring for him he's been really on track for school. He wants to go to college at Sorbonne, he's not going to fuck up school now."

"Even so…" Combeferre said, trailing off. Neither of them needed to mention that Gavroche may not survive the afternoon, and that college therefore wouldn't be an issue.

"What the FUCK do you mean - " As Joly and Combeferre approached the door leading to the emergency room waiting room, they heard shouting.

"I don't give a FUCK – "

"Is that?" Joly asked, his eyes widening.

"That would be Éponine." Combeferre said. The two doctors increased their pace as Éponine continued to yell. Another voice soon joined the conversation.

"Éponine, calm down – "

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down, Enjolras, why don't you go sit down…"

"Yelling isn't going to solve anything, ma'am…"

"Apparently speaking rationally doesn't either!" Éponine shouted, dividing her attention between the receptionist and Enjolras. At that moment, Combeferre and Joly came through the door.

"Doctors, were you assigned to the Jondrette case?" The receptionist asked, shooting an annoyed look at Éponine.

"No, Dr. Shepard took it, we know the victim and weren't able to do the procedure."

"Great." The receptionist mumbled, casting a glance out to the waiting room. Joly and Combeferre followed her gaze to see all of their friends, sans Courfeyrac, standing in the middle of the waiting room. They all looked either pissed, or terrified, all of their gazes on Éponine.

"What's going on?" Combeferre asked in confusion, his eyes wandering from the receptionist, to Éponine and Enjolras (who had a death grip on Éponine's arm, presumably to stop her from strangling the receptionist), to the rest of their friends.

"Let me get an update."

"You fucking do that." Éponine muttered, pulling her arm out of Enjolras's grasp.

"What is going on?" Combeferre repeated, directing the question this time to Enjolras, since no one else was paying attention. Enjolras shook his head distractedly. Combeferre narrowed his eyes; he and Joly had only been gone for a little over an hour, what could have _possibly _happened?

"I don't know, really." Enjolras mumbled, finally answering the question. He looked more tired than Combeferre.

"Dr. Shepard has confirmed the situation." The receptionist said cautiously. Instead of screaming, Éponine's body crumbled, her weight falling into Enjolras, who gently set her on the floor, his arms around her.

Combeferre was about to ask _again_ what was happening, but a hand on his elbow stopped him. He glanced to his left, where Cosette was standing, her face white, her fingers shaking.

"Gavroche has disappeared."

* * *

**Collective "uh what?!" Woah. Okay. So Gav goes in for surgery and now is just missing? HMM. Let me know what you guys think! **


	5. Chapter 4: The Investigation

**Hey guys! First of all THANK YOU for the tremendous response to the last chapter! I appreciate it so much! To the guest that said it was like an episode of Pretty Little Liars: you made my day! I love that show so much, and I'm glad you saw a comparison! **

**Without further ado, Chapter Four! **

* * *

Combeferre blinked. _Disappeared? _

"What the fuck is going on?" Joly asked quietly, and all Combeferre could do in response was shrug. He honestly had no idea.

"Where's Courf?" Combeferre asked. Cosette bit her lip, glancing around nervously.

"No one can get ahold of him. Marius looked everywhere before we came down here. Courf wasn't in the library, the apartment, the café…" She trailed off. Combeferre's eyebrows furrowed in confusion; not only was Courf always easy to find, this was _Gav._ They were inseparable.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon." Combeferre said, though without any sort of conviction. He wasn't feeling too sure about _anything_, not after everything that had happened already.

"Hey, come with me a second." Joly said, grabbing Combeferre's elbow and pulling him back out of the waiting room. No one (aside from Cosette) noticed their departure; everyone was too focused on the situation, and on Éponine collapsed against Enjolras.

"What are you – "

"We're the only ones who can get back here right now, and we have to find out what's going on – Doctor Shepard!" Joly called suddenly, flagging down their boss. Dr. Shepard turned around, sighing when he saw the pair.

"I've already told the receptionist, I'm not sure what happened – "

"Was the surgery a success?" Joly asked, ignoring Dr. Shepard's excuses. The head doctor stopped and composed himself, before rolling his shoulders back and raising his chin.

"It was. We were able to stabilize him surprisingly quickly. It's probably because he's so young, but we stopped the bleeding and patched up the injury, while the nurses restored some of his lost blood. The whole procedure only took about a half hour; the gunshot was a pretty clean wound."

"So, it was a success, but he definitely was not free to go." Combeferre confirmed. Dr. Shepard looked at him incredulously.

"Of course not, what kind of doctor are you? He had lost so much blood, he needed at least one more transfusion, and then probably three days of recuperation here so he didn't tear open the stitches. The bullet missed his heart by inches. He was _definitely_ not free to go."

"What room was he sent to after surgery?"

"Intensive care room 3." Dr. Shepard said slowly. "He's not there, though."

"Yes, we've heard." Joly said shortly, grabbing Combeferre's arm and pulling him down the hall. "Thank you!"

"What are we – "

"Okay, Dr. Shepard obviously does not give a fuck about where Gavroche went, and isn't going to look into it at all. It's not his fault, since technically everything was fine on _his_ end, since Gav's surgery was a success. But how did he go _missing_?"

"So you want to search the room for clues?" Combeferre asked, raising an eyebrow. Were they turning into detectives?

"Yes."

"Lead the way, Sherlock."

* * *

"This is…" Marius said quietly, trailing off.

"Ridiculous? Emotional? Confusing?" Jehan prompted. "I have more words if you need them."

"Those are all sufficient." Marius sighed, his eyes straying to the set of chairs next to the receptionist's desk, where Éponine was still clutching Enjolras. Marius raised an eyebrow.

"On a lighter note, when did they get so close?"

"They've always been close." Cosette remarked, her gaze also landing on Enjolras and Éponine. "Plus, Enjolras spends a lot of time with Gavroche, helping him with homework and such. He's probably pretty broken up about it, too."

"He's keeping a pretty strong face for her, though." Jehan said, sighing slightly. "Maybe they'll fall in love."

Both Marius and Cosette leaned over to glare at their poetic friend. "Not the time." Cosette chastised, and Jehan's face colored.

"You never know, though." He defended, before sitting back in his chair, crossing his arms moodily.

"What do you think happened?" Marius whispered quietly, and Cosette shrugged, tears jumping to her eyes as she thought about the situation. From what she had gathered, Gavroche had been pretty seriously injured, and for him to just disappear like that…he couldn't have gotten up and left on his own, right?

"I don't know." She said honestly, leaning into Marius's shoulder. "I don't want to think the worst, but…"

"Why can't I find Courfeyrac?" Marius asked quietly, his eyes wide and confused. Of all his friends, Marius had known Courfeyrac the longest. He was one of the sweetest guys, and one of the best friends _anyone_ could ask for, but his absence was nagging Marius's conscience.

"You're not suggesting…" Cosette began, but Marius cut her off.

"I don't think he would ever do anything to harm Gav, no. But it seems like a weird coincidence, don't you think?"

"It doesn't make any sense," Cosette admitted, her shoulders shrugging. "He could have had a family emergency, though. He could have broken his phone, I don't know. We have to stay positive, though, for Éponine's sake."

"You know, Jehan might have a point…" Marius said, smirking slightly as he observed Enjolras whispering in Éponine's ear. Her tears had stopped, and her eyes were closed. It was clear she was awake, however, as her hands were still gripping Enjorlas's arms.

"Honestly, Marius." Cosette said, though she too had always hoped something would happen between their two friends. Enjolras always claimed he was too busy for a social life, and Éponine was always too occupied with Gavroche, but Cosette could tell that if they just _tried_, something could happen between them. Now was probably not the best time to bring it up, though.

"Where did 'Ferre and Joly go?" Bahorel asked, leaning across Grantaire to direct his question to Cosette. Grantaire, for his part, was being surprising silent.

"Not sure, they went back into the hospital area…maybe they'll find something." Cosette said, shrugging. She certainly hoped they would.

* * *

"So, we've got nothing, really. A little bit of blood on the sheets, and that's it." Joly summarized, looking around the intensive care room with a critical eye. There was no paperwork, no personal effects, and most importantly, no Gavroche. The only evidence of occupation was the small bloodstain on the top sheet of the bed, and that was no stretch. Obviously if Gavroche had ever been in the room, there would be some blood.

"Looks like it." Combeferre said dejectedly, his eyes sweeping the room one last time. If Gavroche had any possessions on him, they would have been left in here. Even the clothes he was wearing would be in the room. And there was _nothing_.

"This doesn't make any sense." Joly said, throwing his hands up. "He has the surgery, he's brought down here, _he's unconscious_ in this room for, what? A half hour? And then he's gone."

"We have to figure out what happened in that time." Combeferre said firmly, before striding to the door and walking into the hall.

"Sarah, where is 'Chetta?" The nurse pointed down the hall toward the waiting room; Musichetta was sitting with Lesgle, of course. "Okay, thanks."

"Did you need something?" Sarah asked, leaving her station and walking toward the room. Combeferre shook his head distractedly.

"I don't know what we need…the young boy that was in here, Gavroche? He's missing, and he wasn't moved to another room, he was only just out of surgery a little while ago…"

"Missing?" Sarah repeated, her expression bewildered.

"I know, it's strange." Joly said, running a hand through his hair. "God dammit, 'Ferre, what are we missing here? There has to be something we're overlooking."

"You didn't see anyone, though? No one came through here, no one went in that room?" Combeferre asked Sarah. She shook her head.

"It's only been doctors, nurses, and the custodian." Sarah confirmed. Joly let out a frustrated sigh.

"Well, if you think of anything, just let us – "

"Was this the Doctor Shepard surgery?" Sarah asked suddenly, a frown appearing on her face. Joly nodded. "I have some paperwork over here…" She said, shuffling back to her station and picking up a folder.

"Finally, some fucking answers." Combeferre muttered, taking the folder from Sarah's hands. He flipped it open eagerly. It was Gavroche's patient information from the hospital.

"They have stuff on him from last time he was here." Joly said, pointing to the first page of notes; Gavroche had broken his leg two years earlier. That had been his only other trip to the hospital.

"So, today…" Combeferre said, trailing off as he peered at the charts. "They have down all the vitals that they took in the ambulance, Doctor Shepard's signature down here for the surgery…"

"Why is that blank?" Joly questioned, pointing to the first section on the second page. Combeferre looked closer at the empty lines.

"Family." He muttered, biting his lip. "Gav doesn't have any family listed with the hospital…"

"Must be from all of the back and forth between their parents, and then with Éponine." Joly mused. After all, Gavroche hadn't been with Éponine for most of his life. Joly doubted their parents ever brought the boy to the doctor, never mind the hospital.

"Why didn't she put her information down when he was in here with the broken leg, though?" Combeferre asked, flipping the folder over to check for any information. On the back, there was a sticky note that said "fax?". "Looks like there was supposed to be a fax, maybe with family information? I don't know."

"Go back to the second page."

Combeferre flipped back to the most recent page. The two doctors scanned the information. "Three gunshot wounds, two surface, one deep." Joly said, looking over the human body diagram, which showed the location of the injuries.

"What the fuck is…" Combeferre said suddenly. He had finally made it to the bottom of the page, the contents of which almost made him drop the entire folder.

"Time of death?" Joly asked, his voice alarmed. "What the fuck?"

Gavroche's time of death had been listed as thirty-five minutes after his admittance. Combeferre's hands were shaking so hard that he could barely read the information listed.

"Doctor Shepard said…" Joly began, but Combeferre cut him off.

"The surgery was only a half hour, give or take a few minutes. That either puts the time of death at the end of the surgery, or right after he got back to the intensive care room." Combeferre's voice was monotone, clinical.

"He said the surgery went well."

"He's full of shit." Combeferre said bluntly, his eyes wide. "Look at this!" He held up the folder to further his point.

"I see it 'Ferre, but why would he lie…?"

"Sarah?" Combeferre called, and the nurse looked up from her work. "Who dropped this folder off?"

"I'm not sure, it was here when I got back from the restroom." Sarah said lightly, not realizing that she had missed a crucial moment in Joly and Combeferre's investigation. Combeferre sighed loudly, directing his attention back to Joly.

"Maybe Doctor Shepard made a mistake during surgery?" Combeferre suggested slowly. "And didn't want us to find out? He's aware that we know Gavroche, that's why he took the surgery…"

"He can't hide a _body_, you know that, he should know that…"

"Or." Combeferre said quietly. "Gavroche isn't dead, and this is wrong." He shook the folder in his hand.

"He was knocked out from anesthesia, he couldn't have gone anywhere. Besides, who would put a time of death if there was no death?"

"So you think he's dead?" This was feeling more and more like the conspiracy theory shows that Marius was always watching. Combeferre wouldn't be surprised if aliens crashed into the hospital and whisked him off to Area 51.

"It's the most logical option." Joly mumbled, looking down. "Obviously, it's not the option we want, but it's the only one we really have."

"We have to find Doctor Shepard." Combeferre said firmly, snapping the folder shut. "And ask him what the hell is going on here."

"First," Joly said, holding up a hand. "I think we should take a trip down to the morgue."

* * *

**Well, like SHIT! So is Gav dead, or is he not dead? And how on EARTH did he get moved out of the hospital? Let me know what you guys think! I'm expecting on continuing a once a week update schedule (I accidentally started writing an Aaron Tveit fanfic…whoops…but this is my main focus and that will just be a side thing) but there MAY be times when it's twice a week! School is starting to pick up (anger) so there may be occasional delays! **

**Again, thank you for all your reviews/follows/favorites, you all really make me so happy! xoxo Brittany **


	6. Chapter 5: The Dead End

**Hello everyone! After this chapter, there will only be one more (maybe even half of one) set at the hospital, and then the plot will pick up. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK IS GOING ON. I'm loving the theories! **

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Chapter 5: The Dead End

Joly's nose wrinkled the second he stepped foot in the morgue, with Combeferre directly behind him. He opened his mouth to avoid breathing through his nose; the smell was overwhelming in the small room. Not only was the odor beyond disgusting, the temperature was set far below a comfortable level, and Joly found himself shivering within seconds.

"What number?" He asked, turning around to regard Combeferre, who was still holding onto the folder. He flipped it open, turning to the second page where Gavroche's time of death was labeled.

"Uh…eleven." He said, looking up from the folder to peer at the numbers on the wall. Each number corresponded to a body locker, and number eleven was where they would find Gavroche. "God, it smells down here." Combeferre remarked, his face twisting into a grimace. Joly rolled his eyes.

"No shit." He deadpanned. He was also scanning the rows of lockers, looking for number eleven. "Found it." Joly pointed down on the right, where "11" was crookedly painted on a white door.

Combeferre took a deep breath. His hands were shaking again, and he set Gavroche's folder down on a table. He squared his shoulders, rolling them slightly, before reaching forward and grasping the locker door handle. Combeferre slowly pulled the door open, the creak of the hinges echoing through the morgue.

"Jesus Christ." Joly mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. His hands were also shaking.

"All this money, and they can't even have an oiled door." Combeferre joked, trying to make light of the situation. Joly cracked a small smile, before focusing his attention back on the locker door. Combeferre swung the door open fully, and reached toward the handle of the gurney inside.

"Ready?" He whispered. Joly wasn't sure if he was waiting for an answer or not, so he just uncrossed his arms and placed a light hand on Combeferre's elbow for support. Without sparing another thought, Combeferre pulled the handle, and the gurney slid out, revealing its contents.

Nothing.

Joly let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. His grip on Combeferre's elbow tightened, and the two doctors looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"What should we do?" Combeferre asked worriedly, before pushing the gurney back into number eleven and closing the door. "Do we have to check the others?"

Joly looked around the morgue; there were twenty spots for bodies. That was another nineteen doors to open, and another nineteen potential dead bodies. Dead bodies that could be Gavroche.

"We have to." Joly decided, nodding his head once in affirmation. "We owe it to Gav. We have to know beyond a doubt that he is not here."

And so, their work began. They split the drawers evenly (with Joly taking one more, since Combeferre had to do the first one). Joly tried to keep his mind blank as he pulled open drawers; his heart clenched each time he pulled out a gurney, with his body relaxing each time the body was not Gavroche. He felt horrible about it; these were people's mothers, fathers, children, wives, husbands…but they weren't Gavroche, and that was all Joly was focused on.

Combeferre, on the other hand, hit a wall after his third drawer. "Fuck." He whispered, just loud enough for Joly to notice.

"What happened?" The doctor left his side of the morgue to approach Combeferre, who was frozen in place.

"Ms. Jensen." Combeferre said dejectedly, staring down at the old woman's body on the gurney of locker number sixteen. "I just saw her a few hours ago."

"She was old, 'Ferre, it's not unbelievable…" Joly said slowly, wondering what had his friend so worked up. Unfortunate as it was, the two men saw death daily; it was a part of their job.

"I know, it's just…I told her I'd see her before she left. I thought…I thought she'd be going home today." Combeferre said. Joly nodded slowly, reaching around the other side of the locker to grab paperwork that was hanging. He flipped through it, looking for a cause of death.

"It says she had a heart attack. It was instant, 'Ferre, it's okay."

"I wish I saw her…it's just, with everything going on… "

"Hey, hey, she would understand, yeah?" Joly reasoned, cautiously putting a hand on Combeferre's back.

"She had no family, no husband, nothing. It's sad." Combeferre said. "The reason she kept asking for me to come and see her is because she said I looked like her old boyfriend. He left for the war and never came back. She couldn't move on, so she never married."

These types of stories were Joly's weakness. He felt tears spring to his eyes; his own grandparents had been separated by the war, and his grandmother had waited years for her one and only love to come back. She thought he was dead, and had vowed to never date another, until one day, five months after his supposed death, he walked into her house and proposed to her. He had been wounded, and they kept him in the hospital for longer than expected. If she hadn't waited, or he hadn't come home…Joly knew nothing would be the same for his family. Those kinds of devoted love stories were his favorites; he used his grandparents as an example for his own love life. That was why he had waited so long to break things off with Musichetta: he thought it would last forever. He had, however, been kidding himself.

"It is sad." Joly agreed, clearing his throat. Now was not the time to think about the end of his _very wrong_ and _very stupid_ affair with Musichetta. "She got to talk to you on her last day, though, right? So that's something."

"I guess." Combeferre said moodily, carefully pushing the gurney back into the locker. "We should keep looking."

Joly gave him one last pat on the back before returning to his own side of the morgue. For the next five minutes neither spoke; the only sound was of lockers opening and closing. Each empty locker meant both good and bad news: on the one hand, Gavroche's dead body was not there. On the other, they were no closer to finding out where he had gone, or if he even was dead.

Finally, the search was complete, and there was no sign of the young boy. Joly took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Combeferre picked Gavroche's folder back up, flipping back to page two.

"This doesn't make any sense." He murmured, staring hard at the page. "We have to talk to Doctor Shepard again."

* * *

"Where in the ever loving fuck have you been?" Upstairs, chaos had erupted in the waiting room again. This time, however, Éponine's anger was not directed at a doctor, or the receptionist. She was yelling at Courfeyrac.

"I…" Courfeyrac began, but Éponine was already off on another tirade.

"I tried to call you _numerous _times, Courf. Do you even understand that you are Gavroche's favorite person in this world? Something happens to him, Courf, of course I'm going to call you first. You're the one who knows him best, he tells you things he doesn't even tell me, because he looks up to you. You're like his father figure and his big brother and his best friend all wrapped into one. I _needed_ you today, and no one could find you! Marius looked everywhere, and all my calls went to voicemail and I – " Éponine broke off, her chest heaving, tears pricking her eyes. She was on the verge of a panic attack, and Courfeyrac's eyes widened at the sight.

"Ep…maybe you should breathe a second…"

"Don't…tell me…what to do…" Éponine said, gasping for air between words. "Enjolras get _off_ of me, I'm fine." She pushed the lawyer's hand off of her arm moodily, before turning back to Courfeyrac. "Just tell me where you were."

"I was out, getting data for one of my classes. I have to interview a bunch of citizens, and my phone died. Marius couldn't find me because I was just out wandering the streets. I didn't even _realize_ my phone had died until I went to check it about an hour ago and saw that it was dead. I went straight home and charged it, and that's when I got all your texts and calls. I wasn't ignoring you on purpose, you know I wouldn't do that, _especially_ if it concerned Gavroche, okay?"

Éponine took a deep breath, saying nothing at first. "And why," she started quietly, her voice dangerously low. "Why wasn't your phone charged? You're attached to it." The group was silent; Éponine was right. Courfeyrac always had his, and it was _always_ charged; if someone needed to get in touch with someone else, the group knew that Courf would pick up the phone.

"I…" Courfeyrac started, but a twisted smile had already graced Éponine's face.

"You were at some girl's house last night, weren't you?"

"I – "

"Weren't you?" Éponine yelled, shaking Enjolras's hand off her arm for the second time. "You weren't able to charge your phone because you were shagging some _girl_ and then missed all of my calls. What if Gavroche had tried to call you before he was _shot_, Courf, did you think of that?" Tears were flowing unchecked down Éponine's cheeks, though she didn't seem to notice.

"It was stupid, I – "

"I don't even know _why_ I ever let Gav look up to you." Éponine said savagely. A look of hurt crossed Courfeyrac's face, and nearly everyone gasped. Enjorlas's mouth was set in a line; he could tell that some things were about to be said that would change everything.

"What do you – " Courfeyrac began, but Éponine was off and running.

"To think I let Gavroche _idolize_ you, Courf, like you were some sort of God or something. And you don't even have a real job, you're still going to school, and you womanize at different bars every night, getting drunk with him – " she paused to point at Grantaire. "Gavroche wants to _be_ you, Courfeyrac, he thinks the sun shines out of your fucking ass! Meanwhile, I'm over here working _my_ ass off to support him, to get him out of the system, and all I ever hear about is how great you are!"

"That's not my fault, Éponine, he and I just get on really well, and – "

"And _what_, Courf, please tell me, I'm dying to know." Éponine said harshly, her tone low and gruff. "You know what? I called the school to see what happened earlier. _No one_ signed Gav out, he snuck out, by himself. I wonder where he got that _brilliant _idea?"

"I would never, we told him that he had to stay in school –"

"I'm not going to believe for _one second_ that you didn't tell him some story about you sneaking out of high school at some point to do whatever, whether it was drink, or smoke, or do nothing, I don't know. But I'm willing to bet that something that _you_ said made him want to do this. So, he leaves school, and he's shot, and now he's _missing._"

"Is that what you really think about me?!" Courfeyrac suddenly yelled, his eyes ablaze with anger. "You think I'm just going around telling him to pick up women and laze his life away and skip school? Éponine, that's not it at all. I've been right there with you, telling him that he has to stay in school, he has to stay focused, hell, I'm telling him that he should be looking at Enjolras as an example of what to strive for, not me! I know he doesn't necessarily want to just hear it from you, but I've been telling him the _exact _things you are!"

"Well, maybe I should have had him around Enjolras more, then, and not you!"

"Maybe!"

The room was silent as Éponine and Courfeyrac stared each other down, both breathing heavily. Everyone sat with bated breath, wondering who was going to start yelling next.

"I don't mean to get so angry with you." Éponine said dully. She looked tired, as if she had aged several years in one day. Her sudden shift in demeanor caused several raised eyebrows; Marius's mouth dropped open, and a confused whisper of "what the fuck" came out of his mouth.

"I know." Courfeyrac mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets. "That was some mean stuff."

"I'm sorry." Éponine said lowly, tears pricking her eyes. "This has been a very long day, and I had to direct this at someone."

"It's okay." Courfeyrac said softly.

"No, it's not. I know you have Gavroche's best interests at heart, Courf, and you didn't deserve any of that."

Courfeyrac said nothing, just stepped forward to envelope Éponine in a hug. Enjolras rolled his eyes at the display; did they _really_ have to do all that arguing to then just hug it out? At least Éponine hadn't been yelling at him. _She should be_. Enjolras felt a chill go down his spine as he remembered that he was the only person in the room that had seen Gavroche after the shooting. That he had left him, dying, in the street. He shook his head and rolled his shoulders; he would deal with his guilt later. Now, it was time to focus on Éponine, and on finding Gavroche.

After the screaming match ended, Marius and Cosette turned back to each other, conversing lowly. Lesgle threw an arm around Musichetta's shoulders, and the two sat back against the seats. Bahorel, Feuilly and Jehan got up to use the coffeemaker silently. Enjolras focused on Éponine, who was still in Courfeyrac's embrace. The two were mumbling apologies to each other, tears streaming.

Grantaire was the only one who noticed the small, red blood stain on Courfeyrac's jacket.

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**MUAHAHAHA I am an asshole. Let me know what you guys think, and I'll see you all next week! xoxo Brittany **


	7. Chapter 6: The End of the Day

**Hi everyone! Thank you for the feedback to the last chapter, I really appreciated it! The end of this one **_**finally**_** reveals a LITTLE bit of what is going on, but it's still definitely too vague for anyone (except for Jess) to get it! Hope you guys enjoy! **

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Chapter 6: The End of the Day

"What do you mean, _left_?" Combeferre asked incredulously. He and Joly had come up from the morgue and begun searching for Dr. Shepard. Finding him nowhere, they had resorted to asking the secretary about his whereabouts. All their friends were still in the lobby; the general mood had calmed down, and no one was yelling anymore.

"Doctor Shepard handed in his resignation, and left." The receptionist said calmly. It was clear that she was unfazed by this information. Combeferre and Joly, on the other hand, were furious.

"I have a signed death certificate for a patient that is _not in the morgue,_ do you understand?" Combeferre said slowly, enunciating each word. The receptionist still looked bored.

"You can't give us any more information?" Joly asked, and the woman shook her head.

"I'm not allowed to disclose – "

"Yeah, we fucking get it. Thanks for nothing." Combeferre said moodily, before grabbing Joly's elbow and pulling him toward the waiting room.

"Are we…" Joly began, a terrified looking coming over his face.

"We have to." Combeferre said, setting his jaw in a hard line. The pair made their way slowly toward the waiting room. Joly took a deep breath, pausing before he pushed the door open.

"You'll tell Éponine?" He questioned, to which Combeferre nodded. Joly nodded as well, set his jaw, and reached forward to push the door open.

They were greeted with their group of friends, half of whom were asleep. They had all been at the hospital for nearly six hours, and the waiting had been excruciating. Éponine was curled up, leaning on Courfeyrac, with Enjolras on her other side, his hand idly on her leg. Joly raised an eyebrow at this development; when had they gotten so close? He shook his head, however; now was not the time to be worried about Enjolras and Éponine's relationship. In all seriousness, Enjolras was probably just trying to be comforting.

"Hey, everyone. Éponine, could I borrow you for a second?" Combeferre said gently, jerking his head toward the door out of the waiting room. She looked confused; her eyes were bleary, and she struggled to get up from her seat.

"See you in a minute." Joly muttered. He was going to stay and tell the group what was going on. Combeferre gently put an arm around Éponine's shoulder, and guided her out of the room.

"Joly – "

"Why is Éponine leaving?"

"What's going on?"

"Where is Gavroche? Where did he disappear to?"

"Everyone shut up." Enjolras commanded. His voice sounded exhausted, but his eyes were sharp. "Joly, if you would."

Joly took a deep breath, before looking down at his hands. "Well, guys, there's really no easy way to say this." Joly was nervous, and wanted to look _anywhere_ but Courfeyrac…the prospect of telling him was almost as terrifying as Éponine. "So, you all know Gavroche disappeared earlier." Joly paused, and finally looked up from his friends. "Me and 'Ferre did some investigating, and found Gavroche's chart. It had a signed time of death on it." Several sharp intakes of breath prompted Joly to stop talking.

Cosette was clutching Marius's hand so tightly that Joly could see her knuckles turning white. Marius's mouth had dropped open. Bahorel had fallen back in his seat, stunned. Jehan's face was stark white, his hands covering his mouth. Grantaire's face had fallen to his hands, his shoulders shaking; he was muttering "fuck…fuck…fuck…" over and over again. Enjolras's jaw was jumping as he fought emotion. Courfeyrac's face was devoid of emotion, his fingers flexing where they rested on his thighs. Joly avoided looking at Lesgle and Musichetta.

"That's not it, however." Joly said. He cleared his throat, and the watery eyes of his friends looked back up at him. "Um… Doctor Shepard had told me and 'Ferre that Gav was fine. Something doesn't make sense here. We went down to the morgue and checked out all the body drawers. Gav isn't down there, and if he died here earlier today, he would be."

"So you're saying…he's not dead?" Marius asked.

"We're not sure. Doctor Shepard told us the surgery was a success, but now suddenly, after we find out that Gav has been declared dead, Doctor Shepard disappears."

"Lawsuit." Enjolras muttered, and Joly directed his attention to him.

"Absolutely." He confirmed. "Me and 'Ferre documented our search this afternoon, and we talked to several people who can corroborate our story. We're going to find out what happened."

"What about – " Cosette began, but a scream from the hallway stopped her words.

"Éponine." Enjolras said, standing from his seat and walking briskly to the door. Grantaire got up as well, seemingly to follow Enjolras to Éponine.

"Sit down, R." Courfeyrac growled suddenly, his eyes flashing. Grantaire whipped toward Courfeyrac, who had gotten to his feet. Cosette looked at Marius, and then to Joly in total confusion. Grantaire was one of Éponine's best friends; they spent nearly every weekend together. So why was Courfeyrac acting so strangely?

Enjolras ignored both of his friends, and pushed past Joly out of the waiting room to Éponine's side. She was crumbled on the floor, her head buried in her knees. Combeferre was rubbing her arm, trying to comfort her.

"Ep, honey, we don't know what's going on, he's probably okay, we just have to find – " Combeferre cut off when he spotted Enjolras, and moved aside for the lawyer to sit next to Éponine. Enjolras wrapped strong arms around her body, and she leaned into him, sobbing loudly.

"We will sue this hospital." Enjolras said quietly in her ear, his hands running up and down her back. "I will win this case. And we will find Gavroche." He sounded so sure of himself that Éponine's crying died down for a second, her breaths coming in bursting gasps.

Éponine did not answer, just buried her face further into Enjolras's chest her hands gripping his arm desperately. Combeferre looked down at the pair, nestled together on the floor, with confusion. He had known Enjolras a _long_ time, and he had never seen him this…familiar with anyone. Especially a girl. Combeferre shook his head. He sounded like Jehan. Or Marius.

"You want to head back home?" Enjolras whispered in Éponine's ear, and she nodded, still unable to speak. Enjolras half stood, keeping one arm around Éponine's body, the other clutching her elbow. He pulled her to her feet, still keeping his arm around her back. He guided her to the door, holding it open for her as she passed before him.

Éponine waited for him to come through the door, before attaching herself to his arm again. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to his body. The group looked up as they reentered the waiting room; there were surprised stares at their position coming from everyone. Marius's mouth had actually dropped open, and it took an elbow in the side from Cosette for him to pick his jaw up.

"I'm going to take Éponine home." Enjolras said firmly. Éponine hid her face in his chest, her shoulders still shaking from the shock. "I'll call everyone tomorrow. I suggest you all go home as well."

No one answered. Everyone stared as Enjolras picked up Éponine's purse and guided her out of the waiting room and outside to his car. He opened the passenger seat door for her and helped her in.

"What about my car?" she mumbled, and Enjolras patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"It's not a big deal." He said, pulling out his own phone to send a quick text. "I'm telling 'Ferre to stick a visitor's pass on it for you."

Éponine did not answer, just crossed her arms across her chest. Enjolras reached over and grabbed the seatbelt buckle and handed it to her. "Please." He said softly, and she took it stretching it across her body and clicking it into place. Enjolras shut the door and walked around the front of the car to the driver's seat. He opened the door, and got in. He tried to focus on the motions of driving – key in, turn key, foot on brake, into reverse – without looking at Éponine. Every time he saw her face, he felt his heart shatter.

He should tell her; he knew this was true. It would, however, destroy everything. Everything with them, everything with the Amis… and it would completely counter why he had left Gavroche in the first place. No one could know, especially not Éponine.

With this mantra in mind, Enjolras put the car into drive, and drove out of the hospital parking lot.

* * *

Back at the hospital, the former ABC Society was slowly getting ready to leave.

"Are you guys going to head back to the café, or home?" Combeferre asked tiredly, running his hands down his face. He was holding his seventh coffee of the day; his next hospital shift was due to start in twenty minutes, and with Dr. Shepard gone, he had more work than usual.

"Home, definitely." Lesgle responded, yawning. He threw an arm around Musichetta's shoulders. At this gesture, Joly's eyes dropped straight to the ground. He turned to Combeferre.

"You're sure you don't need me to stay?" Joly asked Combeferre quietly. He knew that Combeferre had been in a desperate need of sleep for hours, and that the events of the day hadn't helped with that.

Combeferre, however, shook his head. "Nah." He said, shrugging. "I'll be fine. It's like med school all over again, studying for exams on no sleep."

"Don't kill anyone." Joly joked, though the warning was real; if Combeferre was too tired, it would be in his patient's best interests for him to go home.

"I'm fine." Combeferre confirmed, clapping a hand on Joly's shoulder.

"Let me know if you hear anything about our boss." Joly said, a hint of disgust in his voice. Combeferre wrinkled his nose.

"Will do. I'll see you…tomorrow?" Combeferre guessed. He had been at the hospital for so long that he wasn't even sure what day it was.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Joly confirmed, nodding once, before turning to follow Jehan and Bahorel out the door.

"We're heading home, Courf, do you need a ride?" Marius said, jingling his keys in his hand. Courfeyrac looked up, his eyes bloodshot and exhausted.

"Um. Yeah. I just have to hit the toilets really quick." He said hurriedly, before standing up and walking briskly toward the restrooms

"Where's R?" Jehan questioned, looking around the group.

"I think he may have gone to the bathroom too." Bahorel answered.

This, of course, Courfeyrac already knew. He burst into the bathroom loudly, banging the door against the wall in agitation.

"Grantaire." He growled, spotting the man hunched over a sink with his head in his hands. At the sound, he looked up, startled.

"What are you – "

"Don't act like you don't already fucking _know_," Courfeyrac growled.

"I don't know!" Grantaire said in a rush, the color leaving his cheeks. Courfeyrac ignored him, choosing instead to roughly push his friend against the wall. Courfreyrac's usual sunny demeanor had shifted drastically, and Grantaire's eyes widened in surprise at the violence.

"I…fucking…know…" Courfeyrac bit out, and Grantaire began wildly shaking his head.

"No, you really don't understand – "

"I understand _perfectly_." Courfeyrac said lowly, his voice down to a whisper. "I _overheard your phone conversation._"

"That's…" Grantaire began, before trailing off. Courfeyrac's grip on his chest tightened.

"I don't want to hear your fucking _excuses_. I covered for you last time. I won't fucking do it again."

"You're lucky." Grantaire said, as Courfeyrac let go of him. "You're lucky I'm the only one that noticed that." He pointed at Courfeyrac's jacket, where the bloodstain was smeared.

"That's nothing." Courfeyrac said quickly, but his haste to answer gave him away. Grantaire half-smiled, raising a shaky hand to his hair.

"We both know it is." Grantaire said quietly. "But I won't tell if you won't."

"There's…nothing…" Courfeyrac began, but stopped weakly. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"I won't say anything."

"How long?"

"With Enjolras snooping? Not long at all."

* * *

**I would love to hear what you guys think is going on. I can actually say this time (unlike in 'The Law of Love") that I 100% know where this is going and that I know exactly what happened to Gav and everyone HEEEEHEEEE. This is going to be right around 15 chapters or so; I can't drag it for too long (for that one comment about this being like Pretty Little Liars, I would never drag a story out THAT much), but there's still a lot to uncover, with a lot of explanation to happen! Thank you guys again for reading! And I'll see you all soon! xoxo Brittany**


	8. Chapter 7: The Quick Comfort

**Woah hey, hello everyone! Sorry this took me a bit longer than usual, I just had midterm week (ugh) and finally had some time to write (truth be told, I had some major insomnia, and had to do SOMETHING other than toss and turn, so I thought, might as well write Guilt!) thank you for your continued support, and I hope you all enjoy this one! **

**Chapter Seven**

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He stood on shaking legs, mentally slapping himself as he rolled the condom off his length, before tossing it in the trash. _That_ was not how he had intended to comfort Éponine.

In all fairness, _she _had started it. Not that it was any excuse; she was distraught, exhausted and confused. He just happened to be there.

They had returned to her apartment from the hospital only an hour earlier, though it felt like much longer. The car ride had been silent; Éponine had stared out the window for the entirety of the drive, and Enjolras had focused on keeping his hammering heart in check as he played the day's events over and over in his mind. Toward the end of the ride, Éponine had finally spoken.

"What happens with the law suit?" She asked dully, her eyes not leaving the passing trees and pedestrians. Enjolras jumped at the outburst; she had been silent for over fifteen minutes.

"Um. First we need to build a case. I'll need statements from Joly, Combeferre, Dr. Shepard – "

"If you can find him." Éponine remarked. Enjolras nodded slowly.

"Yes, but we'll be able to find him, Éponine, don't worry. Once we have the police on our side, he'll come out of hiding." She said nothing, so he continued. "I'll get a few of the junior lawyers on the case…they'll be able to handle some of the research and compiling the information we need. Then – "

"How are you supposed to know what information you need when you don't even _know_ what happened?"

Enjolras grit his teeth; he was explaining to her how he was going to _help_ her, and she had to nitpick everything he said? Instead of retaliating, he took a deep breath. "Once I get statements from Joly and Combeferre, we'll have a better picture. We can talk to the ambulance workers that got to the scene first, and see if they saw anything. We'll talk to the nurses that assisted the surgery…everyone. Once we have a general framework of what happened, we'll know what else we have to dig up."

"And that's supposed to find Gavroche." Éponine did not, however, phrase this as a question. It was more a sarcastic, deadpan statement that made Enjolras's grip on the steering wheel tighten.

"Ideally, it will. It's going to get the details out into the open, and more likely than not, his whereabouts will be clear at the end." Enjolras said, as he finally pulled into Éponine's driveway. He breathed a sigh of relief; her questioning was adding to his already mounting stress level.

"Aren't you going to come up?"

Enjolras cursed in his head, before nodding curtly, his hand shifting the car into park, before moving to pull the key out of the ignition. He got out of the car, and slammed the door a bit harder than necessary, before following Éponine up the walk to the stairs. She lived on the fourth floor, and there was no elevator; it was a fact that Gavroche often lamented. Enjolras pushed the memory of his frequent complaints down in order to quell the guilt in his heart.

"Are you hungry?" Éponine asked softly, once she had opened the door to the apartment. The kitchen table was a mess, completely covered in ungraded schoolwork from Éponine's classroom. She followed Enjolras's eyes and blushed slightly. "Sorry it's such a mess."

"It's fine. And no, I'm not hungry. Are you? I can make something for you." Enjolras offered. Éponine shook her head, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"No, thank you though." She paused, before regarding him again with a serious look on her face. "How long does all this legal stuff take?"

Enjolras pushed down a groan at her question, before forcing a neutral look onto his face. "I'm going to start working on it tomorrow."

"And after that?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"How fast I get statements, and then how much information needs to be gathered."

"You're getting statements from Joly and 'Ferre, how long do you really think it's going to take? I'm sure they're ready to give statements now…"

"Yeah, but they need to process what's happened too. I don't want to overwhelm them; they could remember something between now and tomorrow. Plus, I'm pretty sure 'Ferre hasn't slept in over a day." Enjolras said patiently. Éponine glared at him.

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not." He said tiredly, and her frown deepened. She took a step toward him, her finger poking into his chest in annoyance.

"Listen here, you shit." She growled, and Enjolras unconsciously took a step backward. "It has been a long fucking day. I'm trying to ask you questions so I have a handle on how _something _is going to work over the next few weeks. I don't want to fucking argue with you, and I _don't_ need you talking down to me, especially today." Éponine's chest was heaving by the end of her rant; her finger had poked into Enjolras's chest several times, and each time, he had taken another step backward, until his back hit the wall of her kitchen. His eyes were wide, and retaliating words died on his lips.

"I – " He started, but Éponine eyed him so menacingly that he stopped speaking.

"Don't speak." She said harshly. Enjolras, however, _had_ to argue; it was in his nature.

"But I really – " He started, but she cut him off. This time, however, it was with her own mouth, pushed roughly over his. To say Enjolras was startled would be an understatement; his eyes stayed open in utter shock for several seconds, and his lips were lax as she pushed against him.

Intuition, however, soon took over, and his arms rose up to meet her hips. His eyes fluttered closed, and his mouth began responding to hers. He pulled her small frame closer to his, and her hands threaded through his hair, her fingers twisting and pulling the strands with need. A moan escaped his mouth as her hips ground into his pelvis, the movement causing a stir in him that hadn't come in a long time.

She was familiar. They had done this in college, several nights a week for an entire semester. No one, not even their respective roommates, had been the wiser. It had started late one night in the library; Enjolras was a senior and Éponine was a sophomore. It was finals week for the fall semester, and both their exams and the falling snow had stranded the two in the library for nearly an entire day.

Delirious with coffee and lack of sleep, Enjolras had done the only thing he could think of: he kissed her over their French History (her requirement, his free elective) notes. It had started soft and unsure, but ended up with Éponine pressed against a bookstack in the back corner of the library, Enjolras's body gyrating against hers of its own accord. The moment was broken by the fall of books from a shelf behind them, and the pair had sprung apart, their lips red and raw, and their hearts fluttering.

They left the next day for winter break, and Enjolras had chalked it up to an "in the moment" kind of escapade, one that would _surely_ never happen again. Instead, their first night back from break, the pair had ended up having a quick fuck in Enjolras's dorm room, while their friends sat in the common room just outside. This continued for the entire spring semester, until Enjolras's graduation ended things for good. They remained good friends after that, of course, but had not been together for nearly three years.

Until that night, after the hospital trip, Enjolras thought he had forgotten what she was like: what she felt like under his hands, and what her mouth tasted like. He hadn't, however, and the memories of his last semester in college came rushing back to him like a speeding train. Her teeth were tugging at his lips, and her fingernails were digging into his back through his shirt. His mind was blank of everything: blank of what had happened at the hospital, how he had left Gavroche….everything was gone. Éponine was all that mattered.

"Bedroom…" Éponine rasped against his lips, and he nodded his consent, his hands moving from her hips to under her butt. He raised her off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her mouth attacking his neck with vigor, her teeth nipping his skin, her tongue soothing the raised flesh.

Enjolras blindly carried her to the bedroom, and tripped his way to her bed. When his knees hit her mattress he leaned forward, depositing her on the plush in order to rip his shirt over his head. Before she had time to catch up he was already leaning down again, tugging at the hem of her shirt. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull it over her head, before grasping his biceps and pulling him down to her.

They were both breathing heavily, sheens of sweat already covering both of them. The anticipation of three year's worth of waiting was agonizing.

"Condom?" Enjolras asked heavily, and Éponine pointed to the side drawer. Enjolras wondered (with a slight feeling of jealousy) why she kept condoms next to her bed, but without dwelling much he rolled off of her to retrieve one. He fumbled through the drawer, finally producing a wrapper, before pulling down his boxers (when had Éponine gotten his pants off?) and rolling the condom down his already erect shaft.

When he turned back, Éponine was already naked, sprawled out, and waiting for him. He crawled back and straddled her body, poised at her entrance. He looked at her brown eyes, her teeth biting on her bottom lip, and her hands lightly holding his arms.

"Fucking do it." She growled suddenly, her eyes leaving his face to glance at his length, a look of annoyance on her face. His eyes widened at her urgency; she had never been _rude_ about it before. He shook his head, his hand reaching up to grasp the headboard, before sliding his length into her.

He groaned as she stretched to accommodate him, the warmth completely enveloping him as he slid inside. Her grip on his arms tightened, and her nails dug into his flesh painfully. He pulled back out slowly, and before he was completely out, pushed back in, going as far as he could, before repeating the process.

"Harder, please…" Éponine's voice was strained, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she watched him entering her. He obliged, the tempo of his thrusts increasing. She squirmed beneath him, her hips lifting to add friction. She hooked a leg around his back, but his memories of her flexibility were vivid; he paused, grasping her legs under the knees, before hooking her legs over both his shoulders. The new angle gave him access to push deeper, and he did, eliciting several grunts from his mouth as he felt himself hitting her core.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" Éponine breathed out, her head pushed back against the pillows, her hands fisting the sheets as Enjolras continued to pound into her. It was as hard and fast as she requested, and the sex was just as good as she remembered. She wondered vaguely why she hadn't been doing _this_ for years, and then she thought of the other member of the ABC Society that sometimes graced her bed, and she remembered why….

"Fuck, 'Ponine, I'm – " Enjolras said, before a shudder took over his body, his words stuck in his throat, his load spilling into the condom. Éponine froze until he was finished, his member twitching inside of her for several seconds before stilling. He reached up shakily to unhook her legs from his shoulders, and she let them fall to the mattress with a dull thud. He pulled out of her, wincing as the condom shifted, before standing up to roll it off.

Mentally, he cursed himself. It was _absolutely_ not the way he should have comforted Éponine. But she had started it, right? And that meant she wanted it. And so had he. If it helped her…then so be it.

A deep, shuddering gasp shook his thoughts, and Enjolras turned around to see Éponine curled in a ball, still naked, and sobbing. Her entire body was shaking, her hands were over her face, and her heaving sobs echoed through the room.

For a moment, Enjolras stood frozen. He knew the quick fuck was enough to keep her thoughts off of Gavroche for a few minutes, but it was only a matter of time before the stress caught up to her.

"Éponine – "

"Go."

"What?"

"Leave." Éponine commanded, her words muffled by her hands and her hair covering her face.

"But – "

"Enjolras. For once, don't argue. Just go. Please. Leave me alone. "

Enjolras knew that he had to comply. She had needed him briefly, and now, he had to leave her alone. He silently gathered his clothes, tugging on his boxers and pants hurriedly. He walked to the door, pausing in the doorway as he slid his shirt on, before checking his pocket for his keys and wallet. He hated leaving her there, alone, to wallow, but he knew there was no other way for Éponine to cope. She didn't like to show emotion – she never had; it was this fact that had helped drive them apart back in college. He took a deep breath, before shutting her bedroom door behind him.

As he opened the door to her apartment, he heard sobs overtake her again and his heart constricted. Instead of going back – which he desperately wanted to – he forced himself out the door, knowing that the sounds of her agony would haunt his dreams for a long time.

* * *

**A little bit of smut, a little Enj/Ep back story for you all! Let me know who you guys think that OTHER person Éponine is sleeping with is (MUAHAHAHA) and as always, any theories you all have about the whereabouts of little Gavroche. Love you guys much! xoxo Brittany **


	9. Interlude 1: Some Truths

Guilt; Interlude 1; Some truth

**WOAH okay where the fuck have I been. So sorry this has taken so long, I finally have a little break in my schoolwork/boy drama to write up a chapter. Side note about everyone's guesses on who Éponine is sleeping with – you all said either Combeferre or Courfeyrac… YOU'RE ALL WRONG. **

**What's going to start happening now is little interludes that go into the past, and reveal some of the secrets that have come up in the narrative so far. If you all noticed a couple chapters ago, Courfeyrac mentioned that he "covered up for Grantaire last time". That is going to be addressed here. As is **_**some**_** stuff regarding Gavroche. Not all of it. But some. **

**Without further ado, happy reading! **

* * *

**Part One; one year before Gavroche's Shooting**

Despite what people think, Courfeyrac is _not_ only interested in the pursuit of women and sex.

In fact, for weeks, his only interest has been Grantaire; specifically his well-being. Grantaire has been coming to the café later in the day, constantly reeking of alcohol. He stays well past closing time at the Musain, ignoring Enjolras's condescending look as the lawyer packs up for the night.

Despite all the men of the ABC Society having graduated or gone into work, they still gather each night in the Musain to talk and drink. In Grantaire's case, his activities have shifted mostly to drinking in the corner, sending dark looks to the other men, who have seemingly forgotten he is there. He has no job; his family set up a trust fund for him, and he lives mostly off of that. He is, however, quickly draining it in his pursuit of alcohol.

Courfeyrac has been noticing Grantaire's steady withdrawal for three weeks now, and has decided that it is time to finally say something. It is a Monday night; spirits are merry, as the friends are not yet exhausted by the impending work week. Grantaire, for his part, is still recovering from the weekend, when he disappeared for a full two days doing God knows what.

Courfeyrac hopes that in a few minutes, _he _will also know what.

"Well, we're going to head out." Marius remarks, his hand clutching Cosette. He pulls her to her feet, his face stretching into a smile as he regards his pretty, blonde girlfriend. Courfeyrac's eyes dart to Éponine, whose face has gone stoic as she caught sight of the exchange. Courfeyrac knew that Éponine had feelings for Marius; they all knew it. As much as she would lie and say they were only friends (indeed, she would even lie to herself), they all saw right through her. Only Marius (and Cosette, it seemed) were oblivious.

Éponine has been doing very well. Her brother is living with her, and is attending school regularly. Courfeyrac is extremely proud of Gavroche; he considers him a brother of his own in some regards. He feels lucky that Éponine allows him to be close to the young boy, especially after everything the pair went through together.

"We're going to head home as well." Éponine says, ignoring the groan from Gavroche. "None of that," she chastises, a small smile adorning her face. "You have school tomorrow, and I've got a class to teach."

"What's on the agenda tomorrow?" Jehan yawns, his hands clasped over his head in a stretch. Éponine's eyebrows furrow in concentration, before she snaps her fingers in remembrance. "The American Revolution."

"Boring!" Joly says good-naturedly; he's no fan of history at all. Medicine has always been his calling, and he's all math and science.

"You hush." Éponine says, sticking her tongue out at Joly, who grins in response.

One by one, the amis file out of the café, each calling goodbye to Courfeyrac. No one says goodbye to Grantaire, who is nearly invisible in the corner of the room, one hand holding a beer, the other clutching a cell phone.

Courfreyrac stands, and attempts to mentally prepare himself for the conversation he's about to have. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and approaches Grantaire, who looks up and sighs loudly.

"Why don't we get this over with." He suggests, his tone bored, and noncommittal. "You want to know what's wrong with me, what you can do to help, and why I'm always all alone."

Courfeyrac's mouth hangs open, a word not yet uttered. "I – "

"I'm fine." Grantaire says, to which Courfeyrac shakes his head.

"No, you're not." He argues, ignoring the roll of Grantaire's eyes. "I've been watching you for weeks."

"Should I be flattered? Or possibly creeped out?"

"Neither. Be serious. What's wrong? Say it, or I will."

"Why are you asking if you already know?" Grantaire questions, raising one eyebrow in attempted defiance. In reality, he is plastered, and does not know up from down, nevermind how to deal with a questioning Courfeyrac.

"I want you to admit it."

"Well, I want a lot of things."

Courfeyrac takes a deep breath, his shoulders shaking with suppressed emotion. "The other day," he starts, his voice wavering. "It was hot in the café. You had to roll up your sleeves."

This is all it takes, and Grantaire knows he is caught.

"You saw, then." He phrases it as a statement, and not a question.

"Heroin?" Courfeyrac jumps to the worst; he's not sure how much worse it can get.

"Among other things." Grantaire is light, and airy in his response.

"Why?" Courfeyrac is desperate to know.

"Every group has their faller, right? For this group, it's me."

"What do you…" Courfeyrac trails off, and Grantaire is off and running.

"You lot, with your jobs, and your careers, and your masters degrees. You're back in school already, Enjolras is a lawyer, Éponine was lower than me and even _she _has a job! Joly and 'Ferre, they're doctors for fuck's sake! And what am I? The resident drunk, the clown, the one that everyone has gradually forgotten about. I sit here, night after night, just as _here_, just as _present_ as any of you, and yet, I'm invisible."

"So you acted out so we would notice."

"I guess that was part of it." Grantaire muses, his hand unconsciously rubbing his opposite forearm, where a line of track marks adorns his skin. "It was partly that. Partly experimental. You get to a certain point and…I don't know. The alcohol isn't enough anymore. So I started experimenting. And congrats, Courf." Grantaire is now bitter, almost comical. "You're the only one who fucking noticed."

"Others…"

"Are disappointed in me. They think I'm a burden to have around. They don't want me here, Christ, I'm like the family member they try to forget exists. If I stopped coming, no one would notice."

"Yes, they would…we all would, Enjolras…"

"Enjolras." Grantaire says the name like a joke, as if the mention of the lawyer brings him humor. "Yes, of course, our resident God. The high and mighty Enjolras. I am his antithesis, and he is waiting for the day when he doesn't have to look down his nose at me every night in this café."

"That's not true, he cares for you, we all do…" Courfeyrac knows he has to be careful. He knows the reason why Grantaire never has women around; he's known it for a long time. He also knows that Enjolras does not return his affections. Courfeyrac knows he is treading into dangerous territory.

"Passing over that complete bullshit," Grantaire begins, a scoff in his tone. "Why are you even bringing this up? What suddenly possessed you, after weeks of observation, to talk to me?"

"I found a program – " Courfeyrac begins gently, but Grantaire cuts him off.

"No."

"If you – "

"No."

"Do you _want_ to be on drugs? Do you_ want _to overdose someday? Do you _want_ to lose everyone as a friend? It's not that they don't _care_ Grantaire, they don't know what to do to help you! We're used to you drinking more than us, and it's never phased anyone before, but this? This relapse into yourself, this newfound drug addiction? I may be the one that figured out _what_ was wrong, but everyone else suspects it too, and no one knows what to do about it! They're not forgetting you, they're confused by you!"

Grantaire sits in silence, Courfeyrac's words washing over him. He hates to admit they make sense; maybe, just maybe, his friends thought that he was angry with them. That he was withdrawing on purpose.

"No." Grantaire says quietly, and Courfeyrac's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"What?"

"No, I don't want to be on drugs."

* * *

It is this admission that gets Grantaire to accept that he has a problem. He stays with Courfeyrac (Marius is with Cosette all the time anyway, and doesn't notice). He detoxes, and it is one of the worst weeks of both their lives. Grantaire is in agony, and is crying out for drugs that Courfeyrac can scarcely understand. Courfeyrac is forced to watch his friend battle his demons alone. He can be of no help; it is something Grantaire has to conquer alone.

In the end, it takes a few weeks, but a tired Grantaire re-enters the café one Wednesday afternoon and waits for his friends. No words are said – none need to be – and everyone takes him back in as if nothing happened. He still drinks; not even Courfeyrac could get him to give that up. He is, though, off drugs as far as Courfeyrac knows, and back on track.

One week before Gavroche is shot, Courfeyrac overhears Grantaire on the phone with someone. He is speaking quietly, in hushed tones about some sort of debt. Courfeyrac knows he shouldn't jump to conclusions, but considering the source, he does. He stays silent, until a week later, when he ambushes Grantaire in the bathroom.

He reminds him of how he covered for him; how their other friends never found out about Grantaire's drug addiction. His mental victory is short lived, however, as Grantaire points out the bloodstain on Courfeyrac's jacket.

It is from then on, that he knows they are in on their guilt together.

* * *

**Part Two; the day of Gavroche's Shooting **

A fifteen year old Gavroche taps his pencil on his paper in boredom. There are only ten minutes left in his math lecture, but with Ms. Membrino, those ten minutes will feel like an eternity. In hell. With only polynomials for company.

Gavroche heaves a deep breath, his eyes straying to his phone in his lap. He has been texting Éponine, telling her how much school sucks. Her response of "too bad" makes Gavroche roll his eyes; he could have _predicted_ she would say that.

Finally, the bell rings, and Gavroche quickly gathers his things and heads for the school exit. It is lunchtime, and he has a quick errand he has to run; someone he has to meet a few blocks away before going back to school for the afternoon.

He looks around to make sure no one is watching him; he's about to sneak off of school grounds without an adult signing him out, which is an offense high enough to get him suspended. Éponine (and Courfeyrac, for that matter) would be pretty disappointed with him if he gets kicked out of school, so he's got to be careful.

Once outside, he makes he way quickly down the street, cutting through the alleys he learned about as a child. He makes his way past a grocery store, and that is when his journey is cut short. Three quick pops echo through the air, and people start screaming. Gavroche is confused, and looking around for the source of the sound. He catches sight of a man holding a gun, and shock registers; he knows that face. Before he can contemplate this fact too much, however, he is aware of a sudden pain, and a second later, he is on the ground.

The fact that he has been shot does not register for another several seconds, when he leans forward to catch sight of blood oozing out of his chest. His eyes widen, and his first thought is how mad Éponine will be that he left school without permission. His hands struggle to raise, in order to staunch the bleeding, which is flowing heavily. He wonders vaguely where his cell phone is, but before he can think of it too much, a familiar voice enters his consciousness.

"Yes, I know him." It is Enjolras, on the phone. Gavroche wonders vaguely if he's speaking to someone who can call an ambulance. Enjolras presses his hands over Gavroche's, to stop the bleeding.

"Enj?" Gavroche wonders why his voice is so faint. He immediately feels apologetic when Enjolras drops the phone.

"Gavroche?" Enjolras asks frantically. He pushes harder on the wound on Gavroche's chest.

"Am I…die?" Gavroche questions. He doesn't understand why he can't make full sentences.

"Nah, Gavroche, you'll be fine. I called an ambulance. Not that you even need it, you'll…you're fine."

"You sure?" Gavroche asks, his eyelids fluttering with sudden exhaustion.

"Of course I'm sure. Can you keep your eyes open for me?" Gavroche tries to comply.

"So tired." Gavroche mumbles.

"Gav, tell me a story, or something. Anything." Gavroche has never heard Enjolras so…undone before. But Enjolras said he'd be okay, right? Enjolras was the smartest person Gavroche has ever met, so he must be telling the truth.

"Whaddaya wanna hear?" Gavroche said groggily, trying his best to keep his eyes open.

"I don't…something happy. Something…the best day ever."

"Thas easy Enj, the day Courf brought me to the café." Gavroche wonders why Enjolras starts crying at that moment, but brushes it off as a trick of the light.

"Gavroche," Enjolras says. "Who did this?"

"Huh?" Gavroche's consciousness is slipping; what was it that Enjolras wanted to know?

"Gav, stay with me. Who did this? Who shot – "

This sentence is left unfinished as Enjolras is dragged away. Gavroche tries to raise a hand to hold him there; why was he leaving him? And who took him? It had to have been the same person who shot Gavroche, right?

Gavroche looks around hazily, his vision becoming more unfocused with each passing second. He knows all he can do is wait for help. With Enjolras gone, he is alone.

Alone to wonder why on earth Grantaire dragged Enjolras away, only minutes after he had put three bullets in Gavroche's body.

* * *

**Anyone see that one coming? Let me know what you guys think! Hopefully I'll have another one (set in the present setting, like right after Éponine and Enjolras have sex) up within the next couple weeks. As always, thank you for reading! xoxo Brittany **


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